


Paper Cut

by breeisonfire



Series: TAG prompt fics [5]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, i have the ability to make paper cuts sad fear me, listen alan's a weird little nerd, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 21:30:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeisonfire/pseuds/breeisonfire
Summary: wonderavian asked for "paper cut with alan and virgil"





	Paper Cut

Virgil’s used to his younger brothers being confusing and downright strange, so he almost walks right past Alan. The youngest Tracy is standing in the kitchen, staring intently at his right hand, and for one blissful moment, Virgil manages to convince himself that it’s not important.

He nearly makes it out of the kitchen before his curiosity gets the better of him. He sighs and turns around. “Alan?”

“Virgil,” Alan nods, not looking away from his finger. He’s starting to go cross-eyed.

Virgil rolls his eyes. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

In response, Alan turns his hand and holds up his middle finger. Virgil raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, jeez, sorry,” he says. “I was just asking.”

“What?” Alan blinks. “What are you - oh! Oh, no, sorry, Virgil, that’s not what I meant. Look.”

He holds his hand out further. Virgil squints and can see a thin red line on Alan’s finger.

“Okay?” he says hesitantly, not understanding what he was looking at.

Now it’s Alan’s turn to roll his eyes. “It’s a paper cut.”

He says it in a very matter-of-fact kind of way, like somehow that explains everything. Virgil raises both eyebrows this time.

“Oh,” he says. “Right. And you were staring at it...why?”

“I was just thinking why it hurts so much when it’s so small,” Alan said. “Isn’t that weird?”

“That is pretty weird,” Virgil agrees, still somewhat confused. “Aren’t you supposed to be resting? Where did you even get a paper cut?”

“Found some stuff in my closet,” Alan says. “Old art projects, you know, from when I was little. I was flipping through them and then _ouch_.”

“Oh,” Virgil says, reaching for the first aid kit by the kitchen door. They’ve got multiple ones around the house, because despite being an elite rescue team, they have their moments. Case en point, Alan’s paper cut. “Find anything good?”

Alan’s quiet for a moment, though he lets Virgil bandage his finger. Then, “I don’t remember when Mom died.”

Virgil freezes, but Alan’s not done. “I don’t really remember her at all, I guess. But I found some pictures from around that time. I guess I didn’t really understand?” Alan pauses, takes a deep breath. “I drew her coming home. I found them a while ago, before Dad...and I took them. And I just...I don’t remember drawing them. They have my name on them, and my teacher wrote on one of them. I don’t remember them, though. I don’t remember anything from that time and it feels wrong. I should remember her.”

This is not where Virgil had expected this to go. Alan isn’t looking at him, just staring at the first aid kit, but Virgil can tell he’s upset, and that he’s been upset about this for a while. Virgil clears his throat.

“You were three, Alan,” he says.

“But I don’t _remember her_ ,” Alan says again. He blinks hard and Virgil can see he’s fighting tears. “Sometimes I think I do, but I don’t know if it’s real or not. All I really know is what you guys have told me, and what I see in pictures. I don’t really even know her.”

“Alan,” Virgil says when he doesn’t continue. “You could have asked, we could have told you more about her. We still can.”

“It’s not the same,” Alan mumbles.

“I know,” Virgil says. He reaches out and pulls Alan towards him, hugging him. For once, Alan doesn’t protest, which lets Virgil know how upset he really is. “Tell you what. You tell me what you remember and I can tell you if it’s real or not. And then you can ask me whatever and I’ll tell you what I know. Deal?”

“Okay,” Alan says, his voice muffled by Virgil’s shoulder. “Hey, Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

“My finger hurts.”

Virgil can’t help it. He laughs. “Sorry, Allie.”

“Paper cuts really do hurt,” Alan says. “It’s so _small_ , why is it like this?”

Virgil shakes his head, packing the first aid kit back up. “I don’t know, Allie.”

Alan tilts his head. “Do you think Mom would have?”

“Probably,” Virgil says. “She was really smart. I mean, I was a kid, so she seemed like a genius to me, but Dad always said she was smart, too. I remember she used to read to all of us. She taught me piano, too. And she had a telescope. Actually, Dad still had it, so it’s probably somewhere around here.”

“We should find it,” Alan says, starting to perk up.

“Let’s do it,” Virgil says.

“I bet it’s in Dad’s closet!” Alan says. He turns to head up the stairs, but pauses and looks back at Virgil. “Hey, Virgil?”

“Yeah, Alan?”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, Alan.”


End file.
